


And Winds Shall Rise

by DebraHicks



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tropical island, succubi, voodoo, a demon and a hurricane, make an easy bust a little more complicated for the Ghostbusters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Winds Shall Rise

      "I hate small planes," Peter said with heartfelt sincerity as he climbed down out of the two prop Britannia.

      In front of him on the narrow stairs, Ray took a deep breath. "Wow, it smells wonderful here."

      "And warm," Winston said from behind the psychologist.

      "It was warm in New York when we left," Egon observed, bringing up the rear of the line of men.

      "No, Egon," Peter corrected. "New York in August is sweltering, hot, sticky, miserable. This is warm." He drug the last word out, savoring it like fine wine.

      They had only gone a few yards across the tarmas of the small airport, when Peter's mood caused him to spread his hands and say, "This is going to be great!"

      Ray smiled at him. "Gee, Peter you don't usually get so exciting about busting something as minor as a swarm of class twos."

      Throwing an arm around his shorter companion, Peter explained, "Raymond, I never get excited about busting swarms of class twos, or class threes or anything above that. What I do get excited about is this!"

      He flung his arms wide indicating the palm trees, warm Caribbean air, and the hint of sea salt on the prefect breeze. "An entire week on a real Caribbean island, all paid for, well, almost all."

      That gained him a raised eyebrow from the tall blond walking next to him. "Explain 'almost all,'" Egon requested.

      Looking a little sheepish, Peter covered it by giving Egon a plaintive look. "I didn't charge the client for the airfare."

      Peter!" Winston chastised. "We can't afford..."

      Peter let his arm drop off Ray's shoulders, laid it across Winston's instead.  "We needed a vacation. We get room and board for a whole week and all we had to spring for was the fare." Going into his humanity mode, he said, "For goodness sake, it is a convert. A poor struggling convent on an island whose only income is from the fine goat cheese the..."

      "Peter," Egon finally sighed. "Shut up."

      He was cut off from a reply by the emergence of a small group of robe clad figures. Peter straightened his tie and combed through his thick dark hair, smiling pleasantly at the lead figure. The person came to a stop and Peter got his first good look under the light brown hood. A lovely fair face with warm deep brown eyes gazed at him. He found himself having to fight against the surge of opening lines that leapt to mind, reminded himself that this particular group of clients were a religious order.

      Extending his hand, he said politely, "Peter Venkman, ma'am."

      The calluses on the hand that took his surprised Peter for a moment but he shook firmly as the nuns lightly accented voice said, "I'm Danise." With a gesture toward each of her companions she continued, "These are Vaneta, Catherine, Josaha and Celesta."

      The variety of names and the lack of any title confused Peter; when he had heard the word "order" he had assumed he was dealing with a Catholic order but now he wasn't so sure. He was also unsure of how to find out more with out being too noisy.

      Before he could think of asking anything, two of the robed women excused themselves to moved to the cargo hold of the small plane. The pilot was loading several crates on a rickety hand cart. The ladies started to help.

      Winston handed his bags to Ray. "I'll go help the sisters."

      "Not sisters please, Mr. Zeddmore," Vaneta said. "We're not a Catholic order."

      It was all she offered in the way of explanation. Egon politely prompted, "Is there a title you do use?"

  

  1.       The darker haired woman gave him a soft smile. "Our names would be fine, Dr. Spengler."      
  



      "Only," Peter slipped in, "if you do the same."

      The smiled grew a shade warmer, making Peter remind himself that just because they weren't Catholic didn't mean he'd get anywhere. Winston and the two other ladies rejoined them, Winston guiding the heavy cart. He took a deep breath as he brought it to a stop.

      "You ladies must to a lot of shopping by catalog," he joked. "These crates are heavier than our equipment."

      "Yes," Vaneta offered. "Those are cans of juice, vitamins, first aid and medicinal items, and anything else we can't make or grow here. This is six months worth."

      Ray's eyes widened. "Six months!  We buy more than this for a week."

      "We live simple lives here," Josaha said from next to him.

      "We are mostly self-sufficient," Vaneta explained as she started to lead them toward the single shack that served as terminal and radar station. "Though we do have a solar generator to power the ham radio and water pumps."

      They emerged on the other side of the building to be confronted by a burro drawn two wheeled wooden cart.  Peter glanced skeptically at the transportation.

      "Sis... Vaneta, I don't think we're all going to fit in that."

      He was rewarded with an amused smile this time. "This is for your equipment and the supplies. We walk everywhere on this island."

      The four New Yorkers exchanged quick glances, the primitive conditions only now making themselves evident. Their clients giggled softly around them. Vaneta took the small gray burro's lead.

      "Not to worry. It's only five miles to the sanctuary and there is no rain predicted for today."

 

      The wine would certainly never give Don Pernigon any competition but Peter decided that, despite it's over sweetness, it was drinkable. At the head of the table, Egon finished going over the list of information he'd gained from their clients. The group was a remarkable mix of ages, ethnic backgrounds and training. There were several teachers, Vaneta held an MBA from FSU; one had been an electronic engineer for California Power; one was a former nurse; Josaha had been a high construction worker. Peter had smiled to himself as Winston and the shorter blonde woman had spent most of the afternoon talking about construction work. He had also noted Ray's interest when Josaha had mentioned electronics.

      "So," Egon's deep voice called his attention back to the job, "we seem to be two days early for the normal appearance at the first full moon."

      His ice blue eyes connected accusingly with Peter. The parapsychologist only smiled pleasantly. "I didn't have a Farmer's Almanac handy, Spengs, so I guessed." Seriously, he added, "I also thought we might want to get here early enough to learn the terrain as well as the nature of our target."

      Slowly, Egon's displeasure at being dragged away from home and his experiments, thawed as Peter's second argument made sense. But Peter could tell by the wry lift of Egon's mouth that the physicist hadn't missed the other advantages of two days on a Caribbean island. The tall blond glanced down at his list, idly tapping the notebook with his pencil.

      "I suggest we spend the rest of today becoming familiar with the facilities."

      Vaneta stood, refilling Peter's glass and topping Ray's. Winston declined once again, not being a wine drinker. Egon's glass was still full, Peter was not surprised; Egon disliked sweet drinks, preferring dry wine.

      "The fort covers nearly five acres," Vaneta explained. "Only about a third of it is currently in use, much of it is beyond our resources to repair."

      "How long has your conven... order been here?" Ray questioned.

      She sat back down, pushing her deep cowl off to reveal long, black hair. Peter's hormones shot up another notch, much to his discomfort. "Our religion moved to these islands during the Inquisition. Originally we had a small church on the ocean side of the island. This fort was established during the War of 1812 by the English and abandoned just before Napoleon's campaign. We bought it from the French in 1946. We have been working on it gradually since then"

      Glancing around at the comfortable, cool tiled room, Peter applauded their efforts. He yawned, suddenly tired. Chalking it up to jet lag and the wine, he came to his feet.

      "We better get started, I want to hit the bed early tonight."

      "You?" Winston said in surprise. "Bed and early do not go with Peter Venkman."

      Peter smiled. "If we finish tonight and get to bed early, then we can hit the beach even sooner."

      "I brought several ghost alarms," Ray reminded him. "We can set them up around the... oh, power?"

      Josaha answered him. "Several rooms have power but not all."

      "We'll put them up where we can," Winston volunteered. "From what you ladies said, the ghosts appear at different places each time so they may help a little."

      One of the appeared at the end of the table, silently removing the glasses. Vaneta stood, pulled her hood back up.

      "Dr. Venk... Peter, we have more to offer here than just a beautiful beach. There is a small village on the island that offers many local foods and crafts."

      "That sounds great!" Ray grinned. He threw an arm around Peter's higher shoulders. "How about it, Peter, the village in the morning, a little sun on the beach, then a local dinner?"

      Peter smiled blissfully. "Sounds like the prefect day."

     

      "Your theory is quite sound, Raymond," Egon said. "But I think the addition of the residual readings will..."

      "Stop!" Peter barked. He rolled over on the wide blanket he had borrowed from the nuns. "We are laying on an absolutely pristine beach surrounded by peace and quiet, bright sun overhead, blue ocean at our feet and all you two can is talk business. Relax a little, enjoy a little."

      Egon and Ray both cast him confused looks. "But Peter," Ray stated with a smile, "we are enjoying ourselves."

      From another blanket under the nearest palm tree, Winston laughed. He smiled at Peter over the edge of a mystery novel. Peter threw his hands in the air and stood. "I surrender. Who's for a swim?"

      "Good idea!" Ray came up, grabbing his T-shirt to go over his swim trunks.

      The other two hadn't moved. "Hey, you two coming?" Peter prompted.

      Egon shook his head, almost dislodging his wide brimmed straw hat. "I believe my sunscreen has reached it's limit. Perhaps I shall return to the fort."

      "Hey," Winston suddenly spoke up. "How about the village? Want to take a walk over there, Egon? It's mostly under trees."

      "An excellent idea, Winston." Egon agree. "We can sample the local cuisine."

      "You guys want to come?" Winston asked.

      They both hesitated, Peter turning toward the beautiful open ocean. "Nah, the water looks way too good."

      Ray smiled at his companion's enthusiasm. "I'll stay with Peter. When will you guys be back?"

      "When we get there," Winston called back.

      Ray's laugh followed them down the trail.

 

      The village wasn't much to look, with crop fields coming up to the edge on the interior side. Two small girls playing in a metal washtub smiled at them as they emerged out of the thick jungle. Two tall, chocolate skinned women, whom Winston guessed to be the children's mothers, waved jauntily from the door of the small, white washed one room house. Beside him, Winston heard Egon take a quick breath. The cause was easy to guess - the women worn no blouses, only bright colored full skirts that stopped just above their bare feet. Winston controlled his smile. Sometimes Egon could be a bashful about things as Ray. After the full heavy robes of the nuns he personally found this a pleasant surprise. Winston assumed that whatever religion the ladies taught didn't object to the natives maintaining their own cultural norms or it just hadn't taken.

      Within the first hundred yards of what passed for a road they smelled the sweet aroma of grilling onions. Egon's stomach grumbled loading in response. Winston laughed and guided them a little faster along the road.

      The place, though Winston wouldn't have gone as far as calling it a restaurant was easy to find, it was the only place with smoke coming from the tin chimney. There were two tables on the wide, slightly crooked porch, two more on the inside of the dark room. A woman in a long, cotton dress smiled at them from the back of the room where a bed of hot coals smoldered under a grill; an iron skillet held whatever dish was creating the delicious smell. Winston was so hungry now that he didn't even mind that the woman was clad. They took the table nearest the open door.

      The woman frowned and slapped the wooden spoon she was using hard down on the table. "Hey, food you want? Come to me! Got no fancy waiting girl here."

      Properly chastised, Winston and Egon came slowly to their feet. The slight smile on the woman's light brown face took the sting from her words. She was tall, as the other women had been but middle aged though still slim. A loose turban of red coarse woven cotton kept her hair tucked out of the way. The two men came close, each picking up an old china plate from a stack that she pointed to with the multi-use spoon. As they stood like obedient school boys, she gestured to the grill.

      "Got with and without," she said.

      Glancing at each other from bowed heads, Egon was the one to venture the question. "With or without what?"

      She gave him an exasperated look. "With or without fish, mon. Got no meat on this island."

      "With," the two Ghostbusters answered together.

      The spoon this time served as a spoon and two huge helpings of the local concoction landed in their plates. Still unsure of the protocol, Winston asked, "What do we owe you?"

      A slice of course grain bread landed on top of the pile of vegetables and fish. "American?" the cook asked.

      "Yeah."

      "Dollar."

      Startled by the small amount, Winston grinned at Egon. "Even better than that deli on 5th."

      He pulled out two dollars and handed them to the lady. She shook her head and took one from his hand. "Dollar," she repeated.

      "For both?" Egon wondered.

      The woman rolled her eyes. "That's what I say."

      Feeling somehow that he was taking advantage of the situation, though he didn't know why, Winston held the other dollar out. "Call it a tip."

      That gained him a smile. "Nice boy, huh."

      "Just don't let it get around," Winston told her in a whisper.

      She laughed at him this time before turning around and adding more wood to the small hot fire. "Go on eat, boy, it get cold otherwise."

      So instructed, they sat down at the table closest to the door and surveyed their lunches. Two men came in and retrieved plates in silence, nodding politely to them as they left. Winston noticed that they didn't pay. He leaned back, his curiosity getting the better of him.

      "Do you cook for the whole place?" he questioned.

      The woman came around the small counter, wiped down the other table, even though it hadn't been used. "Nah, mon. Only when season is on. Den the men come to men for food."

      "Season?" Egon asked.

      "Harvesting. Everyone in fields. Two or three stay with the littlest childers, others go. Two, three at time come eat."

      Egon inclined his head to the left, signaling Winston that he was about to ask questions. "What sort of crops does the village produce?"

      The woman's eyes narrowed, sending warnings along Winston neck. "Why you wanna know?"

      Still not seeing the signs, Egon said blandly, "I have a passing interest in flora of the world."

      A slight smile touched the woman's full lips. She glanced at Winston then motioned to Egon. "You tell him, no."

      Winston smiled. "Egon, my man, this kind of flora can get you 5 to 10 in most states."

      Egon's blue eyes widened. "You mean the whole village grows..."

      "Ganja," the woman confirmed with a laugh. "Sell it to you cheap." 

      Red crept up Egon's handsome face. "Uh, no, thank you."

      With a little laugh, the woman left them to their food. Winston wasn't sure what was in it, the slices of fish being the only thing he could identify, but decided after only one bite that he liked it. Across from him he heard a choked sound from Egon. He looked up in time to see the tall blond reach for the water glass.

      "Spicy?" Winston questioned innocently.

      A vigorous nod was his only answer. A glass of milk was place in front of Egon. "Water no good for that kind of burn. Drink this."

      Egon grabbed the milk, taking several long swallows. He looked up at the cook. "Thank you," he managed.

      "Maggie," she said by way of introduction.

      Without saying anything else she grabbed his plate and disappeared again. A moment later another plate was sat in front of him. A plain piece of broiled fish with a pile of fresh coconut was his new dinner. Egon eyed it carefully.

      "For babies," Maggie explained. At Egon's highly insulted look, she added, "Little ones got cranky stomachs sometimes."

      "Oh," Egon said by way of understanding. Very tentatively, he took a bite. With a sigh of relief, he started eating with relish.

      Maggie pulled a chair over next to them. "So, what kind scientists you two?"

      Surprise lit Egon's eyes. "How did you know we are scientists?"

      Smiling a little, she said, "Only three kind come this island, scientists, fisherman, agents. You not the last two."

      It was Winston's turn to be curious. "What to the scientist come here for?"

      "To count things, trees, animals, us."

      "Well, you're right," Winston conceded. "Egon's a scientist and I'm here to help him. We're Ghostbusters. The ladies of the Fort called us."

      She came up so fast that the chair fell with a bang behind her. "Why are you here?" she demanded with a touch of panic.

      The two Ghostbusters exchanged looks of confusion. Egon nodded slightly, letting Winston take it. "We get rid of ghosts. The ladies are afraid something evil is on..."

      "Evil, yes," Maggie said. She studied them closely, then, apparently assured by what she saw, she stepped back to the table. "There be evil there but no ghosts." Her voice grew soft, almost a whisper. "You go home. Big blow come soon anyhow. You go away, not go back to fort."

      Not sure what to make of the warning, Winston said with a confident smile. "Whatever is at the fort, I'm sure we can handle it. There are four of us on the..."

      Her hand flew to her mouth and she staggered back several feet, fear in her eyes. Winston came to his feet, Egon following closely after. "Maggie..."

      "You must hurry. Get your friends." She took a step forward and gripped Winston's arm with surprising strength. "I know a plane. Tonight, I will have him at the airport."

      Gently but firmly, Winston took her hand off his arm, held her hand. "Maggie, listen, why don't we sit down and you can tell us..."

      "Maggie!" A strong male voice cut Winston off.

      Looking up the two confused Ghostbusters were confronted with a small, wiry man with short trim hair. He was holding a jumble of leather straps and buckles. "What you thinking?" he demanded of the older woman.

      "I thinking there been enough...."

      A triangle bell was sounded somewhere close by. Maggie took a deep breath, shoved Winston back into his seat then did the same for Egon. At the door, the man turned toward the outside and smiled.

      A shadow appeared in the door just as Maggie asked Egon in all innocence, "So, you like this, huh?"

      Winston turned to find Josaha in the door, two large sacks in her arms. She smiled at them. "Josaha," Winston said politely.

      "Good day, gentlemen," she said quietly. With a wide smile, she turned her gaze to Maggie. "Good day to you, Maggie, Robert."

      Maggie nodded slightly to the robed figure. "Ma'am."

      "Josaha," Robert said politely.

      Winston noted that the man was smiling but it didn't reach his eyes. Winston could see the reluctantly tolerance in Robert's expression.

      "What brings you to town?" Winston asked, still trying to find his footing after the sudden shift of conversation and tone.

      Moving in to the room, she sat one of the sacks down on the table next to Egon. "We come to town to trade some of our supplies for locally produced crafts and some plants that we don't grow."

      "Not the most famous local crop, I hope?" Winston joked.

      Josaha looked confused for a moment, then flushed red under her gray hood. "Oh, no, no. We have done our best to stop..."

      "You got business," Maggie interrupted suddenly.

      For a second, Winston saw something dangerous flash into Josaha's eyes. But as soon as he saw it, it was gone, replaced by a patient, almost condescending look. "Yes, Maggie, I've brought these things for Robert, in exchange for the new harness for our little burro, Angela."

      Robert held it out to her. "All done."

      Josaha took the harness, inspecting it closely. "And excellent work as always, Robert. You're an artist."

      The man nodded politely. Josaha dug into a pocket and handed him a small pile of bills that seemed to be a combination of countries notes. The tension was still sharp in the room and Winston was beginning to get irritated at not knowing what was going on. All three of the others seemed intent on some conflict that only they understood. Having had enough, Winston looked across at Egon as the tall blond wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin.

       "Ready?" he asked.

      "Yes," Egon stood.

      Josaha said with a friendly smile, "I will accompany you back to the fort."

      She took Egon's arm and started out. Winston picked up the bag, made to follow.

      "Wait," Maggie called.

      Winston turned to find Robert glaring at Maggie. Maggie's black eyes, filled with worry and defiance met his. Taking a step forward, she shoved something in to Winston's hand. He looked down, surprised to see a bright red small mango in his hand.

      "Later, you eat this. Later." As he started out, she added fervently, "God keep you."

 

      Stretching back on the blanket Peter sighed, just on the verge of dozing. He had decided nearly an hour earlier that this was indeed the kind of life he was meant for, sun, sand, warm water. A small frown marred his face. The only thing lacking was female companionship. That could be corrected he thought muzzily. There was the village or bringing...

      "Peter! Come on, Peter," Ray urged with far too much energy, sprinting over to kneel next to the soft blanket.

      "Go away," Peter muttered. He rolled away from the interruption of what was starting to be a very pleasant daydream.

      Ray's tone changed from enthusiasm to serious. "Peter, I think I've found something to do with the ghosts. You need to see this."

      Knowing by the tone and topic that his nap was officially over, Peter forced himself into a sitting position. "Okay, Ray, what is it ?"

      "I was wading around the end of the cove and found a cave..."

      "A cave!" Peter came to his feet. "Tell me you didn't dive into a cave without...."

      "Of course not!" Ray snapped. "I know better. This one is above water but you.. Just come see for yourself."

      With that firm statement, he grabbed Peter's arm and drug him toward the rocky end of their small horseshoe shaped beach. They waded into the clear sparkling water, and Peter felt the tug of the tide around his ankles. A momentary worry about Ray's cave and high tide hit him until he saw the series of stone steps leading to the v-shaped opening.

      "Ray," Peter chided again, "you shouldn't have gone into that alone."

      "Stop worrying so much Peter," Ray returned. "I was always within yelling distance to you."

      Stooping over, the larger man squeezed through the tight rocks and disappeared from Peter's sight. With a sigh, and a vague wish that he had a thrower, Peter followed.

      "I don't like little places, Ray," Peter reminded his companion. "There's usually small nasty bugs...."

      The cavern was huge. Peter straightened. A strange greenish light colored the air, allowing him to see the whole expanse of the water carved cave. The ceiling rose a good thirty feet above him, while the back of the round open area was a good fifty feet from where he stood. Something splashed against his foot and he jumped at the thought of slimy live things. Only a few feet in front of the door was a two foot round hole in the solid rock, through which a small spray of sea water surged every few minutes.

      "What the heck is that?" Peter demanded.

      Ray stopped, turned back. "That's a blow hole, Peter. The other end in probably under the rocks near the entrance. When the waves come in they force water up through that little hole. Pretty neat, huh?"

      Peter's attention was already back in the cave. "Yeah, Ray, neat."

      It was immediately obvious that this cave had been augmented by man. In the direct center of the cave stood a long, flat rock, an obvious altar, the bottom surrounded finely laid tile in odd, almost Egyptian looking designs. Along the north side of the cave there was a large flat, tiled area. Several pairs of short marble columns lined the area. Peter walked over and touched the waist high pillar. The stone was also craved with the same symbols.

      "Can you read any of this, Ray?" Peter wondered, seeing his companion staring down at the inlay.

      "Looks like Cuneiform." Ray looked up. "We need Egon."

      Something about coldness in the marble sent a deep chill into Peter's skin. There was also a flaking red stain on the white rock that he didn't like. Jerking his hand away, he moved further into the cave. He didn't know much about geology or lava flow but as he ran his hand along the ancient rocks, something felt wrong, some slight break in the natural flow of the stone. Leaning in closer, wishing he had a flashlight, Peter slipped his hand into the crevice, realization hit him.

      "Ray," he said quietly, "there's a door back here."

      Ray was immediately at his side, examining the sublet shape of the large stone slab that formed the door. "Wow," Ray said with enthusiasm. "Where do you suppose it goes?" He started feeling around the edges. "Let's open it."

      Peter grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him away from the cold, damp rock. "Whoa, Tex. Let us remember our history here. Everytime we find and open some secret door, something big and nasty and intent on eating us comes through. And right now, considering we don't even have a flyswatter, I don't want to met whatever big and nasty is behind that door."

      For an instant Peter thought Ray's call to adventure would once more get them in trouble but with a sigh the occultist stepped away from temptation. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We'd better go get our equipment and Winston and Egon."

      "Now, that's the calm scientific sort of detachment I like to hear," Peter said cheerfully.

      He threw his arm around the shorter man's shoulders and started to usher them toward the entrance. The blow that hit him was so fast and so unexpected that he never felt the pain or the fall.

 

      Josaha lead them into the kitchen where Winston sat the bag on the marble table top. "Are you kind sirs thirsty?" She asked. "It's a long walk in the jungle. Perhaps some wine?"

      Winston barely controlled his grimace. "Uh, no thank you. I'm not a big drinker."

      "No, thank you," was all Egon said.

      "Juice?" Josaha returned.

      Winston nodded. "Sounds good."

      "Excuse me for a moment," Egon said politely. "I'd like to check some of our instruments. Some juice would be very nice upon my return."

      "You can check instruments but I intend to check the shower first. I think I have half the salt and sand in the Atlantic in my shor...shoes," Winston amended quickly as Josaha handed him the juice.

      His statement caused Egon to pause and tug at the limp curl falling over his forehead. "It is an amazing phenomenon that sand and salt do not seem so prevalent while actually at the beach but make themselves known upon return to a house. I believe I will also partake of a shower."

      Josaha handed him a cold glass of mango juice. "Do you remember where the bath is?"

      Winston drained his glass. "Yeah. We can check the equipment as soon as we're done."

      "That will be fine," the young lady answered. "Dinner will be ready at 6:00pm."

      "Josaha," Winston asked as he waited for Egon to finish his drink. "Do you have a weather radio around here?"

      A strange frown passed over her face. "No, why do you ask?"

      Shrugging, Winston said, "Oh, probably nothing. Maggie just said something about a big blow coming soon."

      This time Josaha laughed lightly. "Maggie is something. Yes, hurricanes can blow up in this region quickly but we always have advance warning. And there has not been a hit on this island in over two hundred years."

      Winston watched Egon's eyebrow shoot up at that announcement. "That is quiet an unusual average."

      "We are very blessed here," Josaha said reverently.

      There seemed to be nothing else she was going to tell them and Winston didn't feel it proper to ask how they got advance warning without a radio. Still, he had checked the weather the day they left and there didn't seem to be any storms close enough to cause a problem.

      Egon handed his glass back, also choosing to let the topic drop. "Winston, after you."

      Ten minutes later, after a quick visit to their dorm style room, Winston sighed in complete bliss as the hot water sluiced through the sand, salt and sunscreen. In the next stall of the communal shower he heard a similar response from Egon. He made a note to check Egon's back when they were drying. The tall blond burned quickly, despite the sunscreen. If that were the case, he wanted to get something on it before it became a problem. He flexed his back, feeling the muscles loosen under the hot water. As much as it had annoyed Egon, Winston was inclined to think this was one of Peter's better ideas. He couldn't remember feeling so good in a long time.

      He shut off the water, heard Egon's stop as well. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he followed Egon's retreating figure across the hall into the groups bedroom. A soft breeze was lifting the handmade curtain and Winston shivered slightly as the water cooled on his back. He started toweling off, enjoying the feel of the course terry, the feel of the wind. Remembering Egon's back he looked across the small room to the tall blond.

      Egon's back was to him, one long leg resting on the edge of the yellowed linen as he dried it. As Winston watched, Egon slid the cloth down his leg very slow, echoing the sheer enjoyment that Winston was feeling. Winston took a sharp breath, as Egon arched back, stretching his almost thin, sharp muscled form. The simple enjoyment of what his senses had been feeding him suddenly took a hard turn into sensuousness, into a need to touch and see as well as feel. For an instant Winston was startled by the desire tracing along his nerves, was confused by the overwhelming lust but the wave of heat overrode it with ease.

      As Winston took a step toward his friend, Egon turned, eyes bluer than the Caribbean sea met his - reflecting the same need that filled his mind and body.  In one step they were together, Winston's stronger arms binding the taller man to him, pulling the slender body close. One hand drifted into the soft gold hair, urged Egon's head down. The kiss was hard and demanding, each wanting to claim the other. Winston groaned as his tongue shoved into warm welcome. Any shade of reality vanished under the glare of their lust.

      Still locked in the kiss, Winston started to tip them toward the narrow bed. A hand gripped his shoulder from behind. He was so lost in the haze of erotic images that the hard touch didn't even surprise him. Breaking only the kiss and not his hold, he turned.

      Josaha and Vaneta stood just in the door. Their robes were gone, revealing every inch of cream and chocolate. Vaneta slid in close to, skillfully easing herself in between the two men, facing Winston. Josaha copied her move, taking Winston's place in Egon's open arms. Winston smiled, memories of Egon's hard muscled frame forgotten under the promise of femininity curves, full breasts and wet welcome. His hands again ran into blond hair, his mouth again claiming soft lips. The taste was completely different from Egon but just as erotic.

      Slender hands ran up his chest, teased at his nipples and he groaned, all thoughts of the other couple lost. Josaha spun him around with the gentlest of touches. They fell back into the bed, the old wood complaining against their weight. Winston stretched out next to her, cock swelling hard and ready. His hands flowed over the smooth curves, down to her hips and across the small rise of stomach. Josaha's lips trailed hotly across his shoulder and down his arm. Leaning down, he kissed between Josaha's breast, laving the deep valley before letting his mouth drift up to circle wetly around her nipple. She arched up, moaning her response.

      From across the small room he heard a similar moan from Vaneta. For just an instant Winston looked across, seeing Vaneta straddling Egon's narrow hips. Egon was moving, hands roving over her ass, up into her short black hair. Even in his arousal Winston paused to watch the play of light and dark, of pale ivory and deep coffee. The similar contrast of colors drew his attention back down.

      A hand touched his cock and the world vanished into a firestorm of need. Winston ran is hand down to the gold curls that covered Josaha's womanhood, pressing down, sliding his whole hand between her open legs. At the same time her hand started pumping his cock, strong hand sliding up and down the hard shaft. He threw back his hand, groaning his need.

      He moved, breaking her hold, rolling her on to her back. She laughed lightly under him, legs coming up, arching toward him. All control fled, with a sigh of pure, uncomplicated pleasure, he shoved into her body. She gasped, the sound echoing his own lust.  He held there, letting the wet, heat fill his bones. His hand came down and he took one of the rosy nipples in a hard sucking. Josaha grabbed his head, pressing him down. He sucked harder, pressing down, feeling the wetness grow around his cock. With a single thrust of hips he was buried in her lovely, welcoming body.

      Her hands left his head, came around and grabbed his ass with surprising strength. With her hands locked around him, she shoved back, demanding his offering. Winston cried out at her near painful hold. Then he was thrusting, riding the slippery wetness deep into her and back out. Josaha met each down thrust with a hard surge up. Winston cried out, his cock slamming against the deepest part of her vagina, filling her completely. He gave himself to the old rhythm, let it take him, make him part of her. They were riding the tide, thrusting, pumping. He twisting, arching toward it, the light and rain filling him. With a harsh cry, he shoved hard and deep and gave himself to the cold light.

 

      Light flickered at the edge of his vision, and his hearing started to fill with a repeating sound. Gradually the sound condensed into Ray's softly calling voice. Peter's head snapped up, an action he immediately regretted as it threatened to send him back into oblivion. With a groan, he closed his eyes, waiting for the green tinted cavern to settle back into place.

      "Peter?" Ray called again, a little louder as he heard the groan.

      "Yeah," Peter acknowledged.

      "Are you okay?" Ray's voice held fear and concern.

      That was an interesting question, Peter decided. Very slowly, he took stock of his situation. Pain etched along his nerves from several locations, though none strong enough to speak of serious injuries. The first thing was his arms, which seemed to be twisted at an awkward angle to his sides. His knees and back were the next things to register pain. Opening his eyes confirmed what he had felt, he was kneeling, tied firmly to two of the marble columns. With a shiver he realized that he was also nude.

      "Peter," Ray repeated urgently, "are you all right?"

      "Yeah," Peter said lamely. "Besides being tied like a prize turkey, I think I'm okay. Are you okay?"

      "Well," Ray answered, "besides also being tied, though more like a calf I think, I'm fine."

      Raising his head slowly, Peter searched for his friend. What he found sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with his state of undress. Ray was laying on the altar, also nude, hands tied behind his back so that he lay at an awkward angle, back arched. Peter sighed.

      "Any idea of how long we've been like this?" he questioned.

      The auburn head shook. "No, I woke up maybe ten minutes ago." Ray tried to shift, wincing at the cold stone. "I can't see the entrance enough to tell where the sun is. What's going on? Who hit us?"

      "I'd say the owners of the place didn't like our unauthorized entrance," Peter said vaguely. "But who the owners are..."

      "Is easily answered," a voice said from the back of the cavern.

      Peter looked up in time to see the stone slab slide easily back into place. Three of the women stood just inside the door. They walked slowly across the sandy floor, robes leaving long trails in the fine white powder. Two of them broke off and went to stand next to Ray, the last came to stand in front of Peter. Peter knew he should have been surprised and wondered what it meant that he wasn't. There was nothing he could do about his current state so joking immediately came to mind. 

      Smiling his most winning smile, Peter said, "Glad to see you ladies. I don't know what local moron..."

      He cried out as hot pain ripped across his chest.

      "Peter!?" Ray yelled, twisting to see what had befallen his friend.

      Peter gasped, head thrown back. "Okay, okay..." he panted.

       Looking down he saw a thin line of blood stretching just below his nipples. Still breathing hard he looked up at the robed figure. He couldn't remember all the names just now but he opened his mouth to say something anyway. A thin whip of rawhide appeared in front of his face.

      "I would advise you to hold your comments to yourself, Peter," she advised. "I will be more than happy to tell you what is going on and what you have to look forward to." She trailed the narrow, rawhide whip across his mouth, smiling. "Though I am sure you are not going to like the entertainment we have planned."

 

      Winston yawned, stretching, warm lassitude flooding his body as he remembered the fiery orgasm. A warm, strong wind whipped the curtains around. Looking down at the slender gold form nestled in his arms he felt the memory stir the embers, starting the hot flame up little by little. But beyond the heat of lust a cool flicker of confusion crept through him. Glancing sideways, he watched Egon stir very slightly before nestling back into Vaneta's arms. More confusion started along his nerves. Egon shouldn't be here; he shouldn't be here.

      "Winston?" Josaha's whispered tone called him back to the fire.

      He claimed her mouth again, seeking deep into the warmth. But still a part of him demanded he stop. Josaha eased away, smiling softly at him. There was suddenly a glass in his hands, smelling of fruit and sunshine. He raised it to his lips, only to stop at the last as the aroma reminded him of something else. His stomach growled. Josaha laughed sweetly.

      "Poor boy, have you worked up an appetite?" As she asked it she licked slowly along his lips, tongue plunging in for another kiss.

      Winston frowned, torn better the wrongness, the lust and the hunger, confused by all three. "Yeah," he answered vaguely.

      Sliding away, Josaha said, "I'll get us something."

      Grabbing her arm, Winston said, "On the dresser. Some fruit." He started kissing along her neck. "A quick snack."

      Obviously pleased with his reaction, she moved only far enough to retrieve the round mango that Winston had left resting on the rough wood table. Her sharp nails made quick work of the thin skin. With finely tuned, slow moves, she peeled the round green fruit, dripping juice onto Winston's stomach which she lightly licked off. Winston's breath caught at the open sensuality in the blue eyes that meet him. For an instant he almost forgot about the mango. But Josaha ran it over his lips, tempting him with it. Flicking out his tongue he captured the small piece, chewing thoughtfully while never breaking contact with the sapphire gaze.

      He swallowed -- and the reality of the situation hit him! Something had been done to get them here, something beyond just physical attraction. While he didn't know what the something was, one thing became crystal clear -- this was a dangerous place to be.

 

      The lash sang out, cutting another deep gash in Peter's bleeding chest. He bit harder on his lip, determined despite everything not to cry out, not to let the pain reach Ray. He almost laughed at that thought. He couldn't control the gasp, knew that each harsh breath was echoed by his friend.

      "Look, lady," he breathed. "Is there something you want from us?"

      The women Peter remembered as Danise only laughed, flicking the whip lightly across this groin. "Only your deaths, at the right time."

      "And when is that?" Ray asked levelly.

      "Yeah," Peter picked up. "I thought you promised to tell all."

      Leaning down, she licked the splattered blood off his chin. "But slowly," she said with great relish. "A little at a time, like the way you will die."

      With a sarcastic smile, Peter said, "Yeah, you and what army?"

      Leaning away, Danise laughed. "No army, just him!"

      With a flourish, she pointed toward the back of the cave, to another stone door that he and Ray had not seen. The door swung open on silent hinges, revealing a dark alcove that held a large statue. As the granite moved the statue was revealed to be a tall, slightly Greek looking man, wearing long flowing robes and a holding a trident.

      "Poseidon?" Ray ventured.

      "No," Danise said sharply. She moved toward the statue, stood reverently in front of it before closing to stroke a smooth alabaster cheek. "He is Mondavi. Older than the false gods of the Greeks and Romans, more powerful than those of the Phoenicians and Atlanteans. He alone rules the earth, sky and water."

      She turned, obviously caught up enough in her tale, Peter realized to forget her two captives for the moment.  Slowly, trying to control each muscle, he tried to slip out of the ropes that cut deep into his skin.

      "For a thousand years, Mondavi ruled over the land. But people turned away, found other gods. A god without followers is a lonely god." Leaving her caressing of the cold stone, she continued in a reverent tone. "Twelve hundred years ago, Mondavi was imprisoned in this material form by powerful wizard. But that was not the end. We, the last of his followers brought him here. We continue to serve him. Here he guards us against the hurricanes, gives us health and keeps us forever young."

      Knowing he shouldn't ask, Peter said, "And what does he demand in return?"

      Kneeling back in front of him, Danise smiled again, a diamond hard smile that sent shivers up Peter's very exposed back. She touched his cheek with the same reverence she had shown the statue. "Blood."

      Before Peter had time to draw breath, the women nearest Ray drew a knife from the dark folds of her robe and drug it across his throat. Ray screamed at the wash of pain and fear as blood flowed hot and hard to stain the ancient rock.

      "Ray!"

 

      Straightening slowly, Winston considered his options. Josaha was smiling at him, obviously expecting him to continue their sexual liaison. As if to confirm that, on the other bed, he heard Vaneta laugh lightly as Egon kissed along her neck. Whatever Maggie had done to the mango though had been a complete antidote for whatever spell Winston had been under.  Winston's thought now turned to Peter and Ray. If he had Egon were being used for something, what was happening to them? Josaha kissed across his chest, sending cold chills down his back. He knew his lack of response would be noticed soon.

      Hating what he was doing, Winston raised his fist and, as gently as possible, clipped Josaha soundly across the chin. She fell against him without a sound. He'd been so effective that Egon and Vaneta had not noticed anything a miss. Carefully positioning Josaha so that she looked to be comfortably sleeping, Winston slid out of bed. He cast a quick glance toward the other two bedmates, neither noticed his movement.

      Checking carefully for other ladies, he went to the linen closet, grabbed a sheet and split it into thin strips. He came back into the room in time to hear Egon cry out again in pleasure. Embarrassment sent heat up Winston's face but he ignored it. Coming to the other bed, without sound or warning, he jerked Vaneta off Egon and to the floor, landing on the back of her legs to hold her down.

      She screamed at the unexpected assault but Egon was too far gone into the drug to notice. "Stop! How dare you! I will see you dead for this." Twisting, she tried to get her legs up to kick him.

      Ignoring her, Winston jerked her arms behind her and bound them tight with the sheet. "Okay, lady, I don't know what's going on here but I intend to find out."

      He flipped around, still sitting on her legs and bound them as well. Taking her shoulders, he raised her up and propped her against the wall.

      "You have no idea what you are challenging," Josaha snarled. "He will destroy you for this effrontery."

      "Yeah, yeah," Winston said sarcastically as he used a smaller strip to gag her.

      Once he was happy that she was secured, he moved away long enough to tie Josaha in the same manner. Grabbing the mango off the rumpled bed, he dug a piece loose and sat down next to Egon. His companion seemed to be in a deep sleep, but his breathing seemed more shallow than it should have been.

      "Come on, Egon," Winston said quietly. Lifting the blond into a position where he rested against Winston's shoulder, Winston slipped the piece of fruit through his lips. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do but the piece was small and he rubbed at Egon's throat, coaxing him into swallowing it.

      Nothing seemed to happen. Winston frowned, wondering if Egon had gotten more of whatever they had been given. Just as he decided to try another piece of the fruit, Egon's eye flickered open, stared up at him in confusion.

      "Egon?" Winston questioned. "Come on, I know you're in there."

      A frown traced along Egon's face, then the blue eyes opened widely and he sat straight up, glancing first at the bed then at Winston. "Oh, my," he whispered. Blood rushed up his fair face, turning him a deep shade of embarrassed. "Winston? Winston, we... didn't... do..."

      Understanding what Egon thought, Winston smiled. "No, we didn't," he assured him. "But you and Vaneta did, several times. And so did Josaha and I. Egon, we were drugged with what seems to have been one hell of an aphrodisiac."

      For the first time, Egon noticed the two bound women. Shaking his head, he questioned, "Why?"

      "I don't' know," Winston admitted. "But I have an even more important question; where the hell are Peter and Ray?"

      Sitting straighter, Egon still seemed a little vague. Winston reached over and grabbed another piece of the fruit, offering it to Egon. "Eat this. Whatever's going on, I think Maggie knew something like this was going to happen. She gave me this. I ate a couple of bites and --blam -- everything became very clear."

      Eagerly taking the soft sticky offering, Egon chewed thoughtfully. "Perhaps if we asked the ladies..."

      Winston shook his head. "I don't think these two are going to tell us anything. At least not without getting physical, which isn't my idea of a fun date. But there is one lady we can ask..."

      "Maggie," Egon filled in for him.

      Within minutes they had hidden the two women in the linen closest, had dressed and gathered their equipment, including their missing teammates packs and clothes. Getting out of the fort was easy, they simply slipped out the ground floor window and sprinted toward the village. Neither man noticed, far out on the horizon, the gathering of dark clouds.

 

      "What have you done to him?" Peter demanded. His anger and fear flared out and high. "If you hurt him again I'll kill you."

      Danise walked casually over to him again. "Such posturing for one so helpless. Not to worry, the wound is not deep, his life is not in immediate danger." With a smile, she added, "But he will die soon, his blood will flow into the ocean's water. He is the first sacrifice, the one to stir the waters, call the winds. Mondavi will arise, stronger and more commanding than ever."

      Knelling next to him, she smiled. "He will claim you next, feast on your bones and soul. Then he will turn the tide away with one sweep of his hand and our island will be safe again."

      Fighting away his worry, Peter put on his best look of complete disinterest. "Yeah, we've heard it all before."

      The whip cut across his cheek, sending blood into his eyes. He flinched back, pleased that he had drawn their attention away from Ray. His friend was still, tense, blood still flowing steadily down the pale flesh to join the old stains. Thoughts raced through his mind. How long would it take a man to bleed to death with an inch slit in his jugular? Where were Egon and Winston? If he and Ray were the appetizer, were they the main course? Were they tied and being tortured somewhere else? The agony of another slash stopped any emotion but anger.

      "Bitch," he hissed.

      Danise laughed lightly, the same laugh that he had found so delightful only a few hours before. He hoped it was only a few hours, the light in the cave could have been full day or near dusk. The thin leather whip traced up his left thigh, then slowly down the right. Flicking the end over his limp penis, Danise leaned forward and kissed his slowly across the mouth.

      "Pity," she said vaguely, "I lost the draw. I would have chosen you."

      With those words she turned and moved gracefully to the stone door, followed by the other two, exiting as silently as they had arrived. A wave of relief, so strong it left him dizzy it Peter. For a minute he let his head drop to his chest, took a sharp breath of dismay at the blood running in dark rivulets down his fair skin. Grabbing for his strength and determination, he looked up toward Ray, refusing to acknowledge the pain of his wounds.

      "Ray? Hey, buddy, you still there?"

      "I'm okay, Peter," Ray answered with surprising steadiness and strength.

      Peter smiled slightly. From his angle he couldn't see his friend's face, all he could see was the slow crimson line running toward the sea.

      "You know," Peter said lightly, "the blood bank is not going to be happy if you exceed your limit."

      "Don't worry, Peter," Ray returned in a similar tone. "I'm nowhere near a pint yet."

      The younger Ghostbuster tried to move, but gave a little gasp of dismay as it caused the blood to flow faster down his neck. He went back to being very still. "Peter, how far has the blood gone?"

      Flinching through his own pain, Peter twisted around and said, "It's about to the end of the altar."

      "It's traveled about ten feet in half an hour," Ray said thoughtfully. "And the blowhole is about twenty five feet..."

      Irritated that Ray seemed more interested in math problems than survival, Peter snapped, "And a train leaves the station traveling at sixty miles an hour how long... Damnit, Ray, what difference does it make?"

      Calmly, Ray said, "Peter when that blood hits the sea water, I think we could be in very big trouble."

      Peter sighed. "Tex, we've been in very big trouble for a while now."

 

      Holding up his hand, Winston signaled Egon to a stop and a crouch. Egon waited patiently, accepting that instincts learned on rough streets and deadly jungles had warned him of something. With a simple nod, Winston crept to the back of Maggie's small place. The sound of an argument reached him, two voices, male and female. He crouched under the open window, listening.

      "It would wipe us out," Robert said harshly.

      "That be shit, mon," Maggie returned. "Long time our people been here. We here before them. We be here after them."

      "And how often did our grand-parents lose everything?" Robert argued.

      "They had pride, independence." Maggie paused, said very quietly, "They had their souls."

      A heavy sigh signaled an end to it from Robert, an end that had no resolve. Winston waited. A minute later, he heard the door slam. The warning bells in his head faded to a manageable level and Winston stood up.

      "Maggie?" he called softly.

      An instant later the woman appeared at the opening, appearing both un-surprised and relieved to see him. Her dark eyes glanced around, not seeing Egon she frowned. The sunlight faded into darkness as the clouds closed overhead.

      "The gold-haired one?" she asked.

      "He's okay," Winston assured her. "Two of the women tried to..."

      Waving, she said, "Know that. Why I gave you the mango, isn't it?"

      Winston plunged on. "Our two friends are missing. Can you...."

      Distress and indecision colored her expression. She drew back. "Done all I can."

      Egon suddenly appeared beside Winston. "Can you tell us...."

      Drawing further back, she glanced over her shoulder. Winston followed her gaze to a small crucifix on the wall. She took several deep breaths. Egon started to say something, but Winston put a hand on his arm. Whatever the problem was, it was something that Maggie was going to have to work through. Thunder rolled over them as they let her think. For the first time Winston looked up, noting the dark clouds and palms trees starting to whip in the building wind. He frowned, remembering Maggie's earlier statement about a big blow.

      After a minute, the woman turned back, defiance and determination shining in her expression. "I be back." With that she hurried to the single front room.

      Casting a quick look at Egon, all Winston could do was shrug and wait. Large We must hurry," she said urgently.

      Extending her hand, she let Winston help her though the window.

             

      "Do you know anything about this Mondavi?" Peter urged.

      "No," Ray admitted.

      Peter wasn't sure if he should encourage Ray to talk or not. He couldn't see if it were affecting the flow of blood or not. Deciding that keeping his friend, and his own, mind off the problem was for the best, Peter said, "Okay, oh great oculist, hit me with a theory."

      Ray took a sharp breath that didn't hide the pain. Peter flinched. As Ray started talking, Peter concentrated partially on Ray's voice, and partially on trying to find something to help him get free.

      "Seems straight forward enough," Ray spoke calmly, obviously taking care not to move too much. "Whatever that thing, or god, or demon is, it has protected this particular sect of women for a long time. First in North Africa, now here. From the way they talked he, it, use to be more powerful but loss of worshippers lowered his power."

      Shifting his elbows, carefully, Peter tried to pull from the tight cords. Blood, that Ray thankfully couldn't see, had slicked down the leather. "And they've been sacrificing people to him all along?"

      "No," Ray said, a little breathlessness creeping into his voice. "They may have a set schedule or maybe only in emergencies, like an approaching storm. Once awake and charged, Mondavi fulfill their needs."

      The pain ripping through Peter's his body and centered on his arms, making him take a deep breath. The cave darkened, for a moment.

      "Peter? Peter?" Ray called frantically.

      "I'm okay," Peter answered, wondering why Ray was so panicked.

      "You didn't answer me," Ray accused.

      "Sorry," Peter said softly. When had he lost consciousness? And for how long? "Lost in thought," he excused lamely.

      "Sure, Peter," Ray said gently. "You're only going to hurt yourself if you keep pulling on those ropes."

      Peter's head jerked up. "How did you know?"

      "Been jerking on these for awhile and..." His voice died away for a moment. "Is it getting cold in here?"

      "Damnit, Ray, hold still!" Peter ordered. "I can try to get loose. You're only going to bleed worse if you keep moving around."

      As he finished the desperate warning Peter became aware of a strange sound echoing through the solid rock around him, centered on the small entrance. "What is that?"

      Only the sound answered him for a long time, then, in a small, worried voice, Ray said, "I think it might be the start of a hurricane."

      "Quiet right, Raymond," Danise's voice said clearly in the wide area.

      "You know, you really don't have to come back just to gloat," Peter said quickly.

      Walking gracefully across the area, Danise was followed by the other four women, forming a prefect triangle. They had switched robes. Instead of the dull brown they had worn since meeting the Ghostbusters, they now wore bright blue, edged with green. Vaneta and Josaha took up positions on either side of the statue; Cellist and Catherine came to stand at the altar near Ray's head. Danise came to kneel in front of Peter. Instead of a whip, she now carried a long, curved bladed knife. Her dark eyes shifted to the trail of crimson that ran down Ray's throat to the groove in the rocks.

      She nodded. "Very good. The winds rise and in a few minutes your blood will join the sea." Leaning forward, she kissed Peter again, teasing the sharp blade over his nipples while pushing her tongue through his tight lips. "When Mondavi begins to raise, I will have your heart," she whispered erotically.

      For once Peter couldn't think of a smart reply. Danise turned from him, motioned to Vaneta while handing her knife to Cellist. "Be ready. The others will come."

      At these words, Vaneta took out another curved knife and held it over Ray's throat. Despite the threat, Peter couldn't stop the surge of hope that went through him. 'The others' could only be Egon and Winston. The fact that they were alive and loose hoisted his flagging hope as nothing else ever could. The emotions reached his eyes and Danise laughed at him.

      "Oh, yes, they will come for you. But we are ready. And by the time they are here, Mondavi will be awake and hungry."

 

      They crouched down behind the rocks at the end of the beach. The rocks cut some of the wind driven rain, but the salt spray, burning like the fresh water couldn't still cut around them. Winston vaguely worried about the shielding on the packs.

      "If what you said is a correct summation," Egon said, "then we have to hurry. If this entity is held in some sort of stasis until called to still the storm, our best change of containing it before a full manifestation."

      Maggie looked at him blankly for a moment, then turned to silently request a translation from Winston. Smiling as he appreciated her problem, he said, "We hit it now, before it gets more power."

      Nodding, Maggie nodded toward the cave. "No one knows what goes on exactly. A blow comes, like this one, hits a little, then goes north. Few days later, bodies wash up on beach."

      "Why has no one investigated the bodies?" Egon had to raise his voice to be heard over the building wind.

      Maggie shrugged. "Drownings, pirates, always some reason." Looking down at the rock, she added, with shame in her voice. "But we know. We know and do nothing."

      Winston reached out and touched her arm. "You're doing something now."

      The frightened brown eyes looked up. "Too long we do nothing. The others, they afraid of the blow. But we stop them now."

      "I only wish we had more information on what type of entity we are facing," Egon said quietly.

      "Egon," Winston wondered, "are we sure there even is an entity? We have no readings, it could be just the twisted delusions of a buuch of crazies."

      Maggie shook her head, the ends of the bright wrap that encased her hair whipped in the wind. "The blows never come here, no since they come."

      "That could be just luck," Winston tried. "There are places in the Gulf states that have gone thirty years without being hit then get two or three in a row."

      Egon's eyes glittered with worry. "Either way, entity or not, they will sacrifice Ray and Peter."

      Winston hefted his thrower, holding it like an M-16. "No argument there, buddy." In the nearby jungle a tree fell over with a crash as the wind picked up even more. "Time to go!" Winston yelled.

  

  1.       They started across the beach. The salt spray whipped furiously at them, but the wind was driving the waves out into the bay, leaving a wider beach and a clear path to the small, nearly invisible cave entrance.     Winston signaled with the nozzle of the thrower and they were up and moving, fighting the wind coming in from their left, nearly driving them out into the waves. Mounting the rocks, Winston held up his hand, then pointed to himself. Egon frowned but nodded. Tightening the grip they had on their weapons and with a quick turn to make sure Maggie was relatively safe behind them, the two Ghostbusters charged into the cavern, the sound of the wind immediately dropping as they slipped through the narrow rock.
  



      For a moment they were blinded by the change in light, then the tableau in front of them came into focus with crystal clarity. Nearest them, Ray lay on a cold stone altar, pale and still, blood visible on his throat. Vaneta stood next to him, knife poised over his throat. To the side of the altar and just behind Ray, Peter was tied on his knees, bloody streaks marking his chest, stomach and face. Celesta was kneeling in front of him with a knife also at his throat. Winston took a sharp breath, heard it echoed by Egon beside him and punctuated by a sharp curse by Maggie.

      Danise stood between the two bound men, smiling in victory. "Gentlemen, Maggie,

      Welcome. We have been waiting for you."

      Winston scanned the rest of the cavern, noting the statue in the back and the open stone doorway. Beside him, he heard the slight sound of Egon's PKE meter. It was giving off a medium hum, a sound he knew meant something paranormal, or several something's, were in the area. He couldn't see the readings but the sound told him they were at least class twos. His eyes connected with Peter's, saw the trust and fear that sparkled in the pain filled gaze.

      "Lower your weapons," Danise ordered. Spreading her hands toward both Ray and Peter, she added, "Or their blood will splatter the walls of this blessed place."

      Winston felt rather than heard Egon turn very slightly toward him. They met gazes, both asking for a way out, both admitting their were stymied. Slowly raising his nozzle, Winston started to rack it.

      "The blood!" Peter screamed. "Stop the blood from reaching..."

      Celesta struck out, sliced down his chest. Peter's voice cut off with a strangled cry of pain. And Maggie, nearly forgotten, reached out and shoved Vaneta away from Ray. In that instant, Egon fired a burst directly at Celesta. For a horrible instant Winston watched the ray lance out, watched time slow as Egon's killing shot hit the woman full in the chest.

      But instead of blood and gory splattering their companion, the shot threw the petite woman backwards into the wall. Confused but realizing the implications, Winston fired on Danise. The woman staggered back, screaming in outrage not pain.

      "The blood!" Peter urged again, his voice weak, carried only by desperation.

      Winston hesitated, afraid of taking the beam off Danise. Before he could make his decision, he saw Maggie lunge across the few feet, hand outstretched in stop the stream of fluid. She was only inches away from the deadly flow when a ruby drop fell over the edge and into the surging sea water. For a single heartbeat, nothing happened - then a light, brighter than any fireworks, exploded in the confined space. It condensed in the center of the room, moving like ball lightning across the tiled floor to flare over the marble statue. Again there was the pause between thunder and lightning - and the statue moved.

      "He comes!" Danise screamed. "Mondavi comes to do our bidding!"

      "This is bad," Winston called loudly across to Egon.

      "This is very bad," Egon answered with their very old joke.

      The women all turned, transfixed by the slowly transforming statue. Winston and Egon both moved, knowing it was the one chance they would get. They both instinctively moved to Peter. Winston pocketknife flashed out, cutting the ropes while Egon grabbed their struggling companion by the arms and hauled him to his feet. Peter gasped as he tried to put weight on his slashed thigh. Only Egon's strong arms held him up.

      "Pack!" Peter gasped.

      Neither of them argued. Whatever was coming was going to take at least three of them, and Ray was out or worse. Winston slipped the heavy pack over his shoulders, flinching as Peter tightened the straps over the slow bleeding lash marks. The green eyes connected with Winston worried brown, then switched to Egon's gaze.

      "Put me against the wall," Peter urged, barely continuing his breathing. "Then let's kick...."

      "Who summons Mondavi?" The deep resonant voice filled the cave, rattled off the ancients walls.

      With a gentle push, Winston put Peter against the damp wall. Egon moved away, forming a wedge with Winston in the middle.

      "Power to full!" Egon ordered.

      The hum of powerful technology warred with the howl of forces far older outside. But the sound was enough to make Mondavi turn to face both his adorning women and the three men who planned his doom. Winston was startled. The entity facing them was a boy, slender, not even five feet high. He glanced across at Egon, wondering if they were really being threatened by this creature.

      A blast of wind filled the cave, sucking the air out of Winston's lungs and knocking them back toward the entrance. Kicking himself for being distracted, Winston surged.

      "Fire!" Egon yelled.

      Three beams jumped out, over the kneeling women, slamming in to the creature at full force. The form wavered, flowing like water, absorbing the deadly energy without notice.

      "Egon?" Peter shouted over the crash of beams. "Tell me this isn't as bad as it looks."

      Mondavi laughed at him and raise his hand. There was no blast this time but suddenly Peter was gasping for breath, fighting to hold his thrower will trying to draw air into his body. Winston tried to move toward him and was stopped by an invisible wall of solid air. Mondavi was drawing all the air away from Peter, leaving him dying in a vacuum that no one could get through.  Peter's thrower cut off as he dropped to his knees, choking on nothing.

      "Egon?" Winston pleaded, still firing but knowing it was out of sheer frustration. "What do..."

      The wall in front of him gave way, nearly dropping him to the wet floor. Giving up on his weapon, Winston dropped down beside Peter, wrapping his arms around his friend. He looked across at Egon, knowing their only hope lay with the tall physicist. Egon's face was tight with worry and concentration as he studied the PKE meter in his hand.

      "Damn," Peter breathed quietly.

      Mondavi smiled pleasantly at them and moved out of his alcove, coming to stand in the middle of the still kneeling women. He laid his hand on Danise's head.

      "Ah, my faithful ladies," he whispered. "Four hundred years and still you serve me well."

      Floating easily over the floor, he went to the altar, staring down at Ray. Under Winston's arm, Peter tried to rise. "Stay away from him," Peter growled with a much force as he could manage.

      This brought them another smile. Mondavi trailed a finger through the sticky blood still moving down the narrow stone cut. He raised it to his lips and sucked it off.

      "You have done well, Danise," the creature praised. "This one is sweet and young, just the thing to bring the winds."

      Pulling Peter to his feet, Winston stood protectively in front of his wounded friend as the creature glided over to them, ignoring Egon. The tall, blond glanced nervously up as Mondavi drifted by, then, with everyone's attention on him, Egon started adjusting the controls on his thrower. Winston, seeing the move, felt a surge of hope. Mondavi stopped in front of him, reaching toward Peter. Winston blocked his move.

      Another smile, this one aimed at Winston. "So, you are one of the ones my ladies choose to play with. I approve. Perhaps I shall also sample the joy with you before the end."

      Refusing to react to the statement and deciding what they needed was time, Winston asked conversationally, "Yeah, it was quiet an afternoon. Why did they do that? I understand Ray and Peter, but what was the sex thing with Egon and I?"

      He didn't really expect an answer so it was a surprise when Mondavi laughed. "Sex is as primal a force as the wind and the tide. Why should they not enjoy your company before your deaths?"

      Seeing nothing to argue with in that statement, Winston shrugged. "Good point."

      "Thank you," Mondavi said politely. "You will move now."

      Winston stood his ground, shoving a surprisingly unresisting Peter closer to the wall. "I don't think so."

      Something solid but not quiet picked Winston up. He slammed into the altar where Ray lay then sagged weakly to the ground. Egon was beside him instantly, not reaching for him, not even asking his condition but frantically changing the settings on the thrower laying useless beside him. Winston was the only one to watch helplessly as Mondavi backed Peter against the wall, holding him there with a single hand splayed on his chest.

      "Yes," Mondavi said with a purr. "The ladies did choose well. You are young and strong, I will need that to hold off the maelstrom that comes."

      Peter straightened defiantly. "Take your best shot, Shorty. I've been threatened by bigger, nasty things than you before breakfast. You...."

      The hand on his chest pressed down and Peter screamed in complete agony. Egon's hands, steady on Winston's thrower shook. But he shoved the thrower into Winston's hands.

      "Now!" he urged.

      They surged to their feet, weapons coming up - and a figure darted between them and their target. Maggie raced out of her hiding place, ran up behind Mondavi and dropped a chain over his head. Without even pausing to see the effect, she continue her run full circle back to the scant safety of the altar. Mondavi's hand fell away from Peter's chest, though the Ghostbuster stayed pinned to the wall, growing even more pale. Mondavi turned, looking highly amused. He lifted crucifix that hung on a silver chain around his throat.

      Looking to where Maggie crouched, he said lightly, "Such a lovely gift, perhaps I will have to return the favor..."

      "Now!" Winston yelled, having heard enough threats.

      Mondavi smiled, spreading his arms in invitation as the beams arched toward him. The streams stalled, just as before, flowing around him. Winston felt like cursing. Before he could, the two beams seemed to join of their own accord, plowed through Mondavi's protection and connecting with the metal cross as if it were a magnet. Mondavi screamed, slamming back against the wall next to Peter. For a instant Winston thought of cutting his power, afraid of hitting Peter but Peter suddenly fell, dropping limply to the wet tile. Winston tightened his hold on the thrower as the ancient entity became to thrash in the deadly light.

      The women screamed now, echoing that of their master. Winston sparred them a quick glance, not wanting to leave their flank unprotected but Mondavi's servants were on the floor, mirroring his thrashing. The creature raised his hands and Winston braced for the attack. Instead of a hard, driving wind a slight breeze tickled over his hands.

      "Trap!" Egon demanded.

      Holding the bucking thrower with difficulty, Winston jerked a trap free and tossed it across the now cracked tiles. It landed perfectly at Mondavi's feet and Winston stepped down hard on the release. Brilliant white energy fanned out in a familiar comforting pattern and the entity that controlled the winds and tides disappeared into the technology of light and energy. There was a loud rush of wind as the trap slammed shut and Winston looked up into time to see the empty cloaks that had once covered the five women float harmlessly to the floor.

      Winston sank to the floor, relief, however momentary, making his knees weak. He looked over to find Egon in a similar position. From behind them near the altar, Maggie was still whispering a soft prayer, while aross from them Peter was struggling to rise.

      "I'll get him," Egon said quietly. "You see to Ray."

      Holding on to the altar, Winston came to his feet. Across the stone Maggie smiled weakly at him.

      "He be okay," she said. As she said it, she handed over the silk wrap from her hair.

      Winston looked down at the deathly pale form of his friend. Blood was still tickling from Ray's neck and Winston sighed in relief. Dead men didn't bleed in a steady pulse. With surprisingly steady hands, Winston pressed the wound closed and pressed lightly against the other side to count his pulse. It was light, fast and the fair skin was far too pale. But Ray's breathing was normal and Winston cast a too experienced eyes on the trial of blood. He hadn't lost that much, enough to be dangerous if he tried to move and didn't get fluids but not enough to be immediately deadly.

      "I think you're right," he agreed.

      "Ray?" Peter's fearfully voice was suddenly beside him. Peter leaned partially on the altar and partially on Egon. "Ray?"

      Frightened emerald eyes connected with Winston's, begging assurance. Winston smiled at him, gripped his shoulder. "He'll be okay. We just need to keep him quiet, warm and get plenty of fluids into him until Maggie can get that plane for us."

      "Can't do that," Maggie said with a sad shake of her head.

      Egon and Peter both looked up quickly. "Why not?" Egon questioned gently.

      Maggie tilted her head. "Listen," she commanded.

      They did. Outside the wind howled with a fury none of the men had ever heard before. It was a sound that carried the promise of destruction and renewal, a sound to bring up ancient memories, a sound that made a person want only to hide until sunlight showed the world still in one piece.

      The blow had arrived.

      "The villagers?" Winston wondered. "What will they do?"

      Maggie frowned. "They'll know Mondavi gone. The fort will protect them. Always did before that thing came."

      They were having to shout over the wind and Winston looked nervously at the small entrance. "We'd better hurry. The water will be coming in here pretty soon."

      "Not soon," Maggie corrected. "Wind's blowing out. After the middle goes over."

      Egon as if just coming to the topic explained to no one in particular, "When the eye passes over the winds will change direction. It will drive the water into the cave."

      "There's a door," Peter said with more strength than Winston would have given him credit for. "In the back wall."

      Easing the pressure he had on Ray's cut, Winston watched closely. "It's stopped bleeding. It really wasn't even that deep."

      "Deep enough," Peter said sharply.

      "We'll have to be careful," Winston continued, laying the cloth over the wound. "It may start to bleed again."

      Since there was nothing else they could do for either of the wounded men, Winston ordered, "Let's go."

      With Maggie supporting Peter, Winston and Egon carefully lifted Ray and they started up to the fort. The long flight of old stone steps, brought them out near the kitchen of the fort. The shutters had been closed, not allowing them a look at nature's finest fury. But even in the closed room, the storm was like a physical presence, like a monster lurking, just outside. The three New Yorkers, use to the howl of winter blizzard's and supernatural winds that few could imagine, found themselves flinching away. Maggie, seeing their dismay, took command.

      "The center rooms," she explained. "Away from the walls."

      True to her earlier thoughts the center rooms were filled with villagers; women comforting small children, men huddled with their wives against the walls. Small fires made of driftwood and broken furniture already flickered in the dark of full day. In one room several dozen goats and chickens picked at the stone floor. A few of the villages shot the Ghostbusters dirty looks, obviously blaming them for the removal of their protection. Maggie saw the looks.

      "Shame on you," she scowled. "Evil is evil, don't matter the end."

      It was all she needed to say. Within minutes some of the natives had cleared a spot on the floor. After they had lowered Ray, Maggie let Peter sink down beside him, leaning back against the wall. Still in silence, since it was easier than trying to talk over the wind, a woman sat a pot of warm water down next to Ray, another laying a pile of clothes next to that. Winston started to clean the blood away from Ray's throat, moving very carefully so as not to start the bleeding again. Outside the crash of trees was lost under the wind.

 

      Peter felt Egon's arm go around him, pull him back into a sitting position from where he had sagged down. Not having the strength to do anything else, Peter merely smiled at his friend. He watched as Winston cleaned the cut on Ray's throat. He knew Winston had said Ray would be okay, but the terror of the passed few hours was only now catching up with him. He heard Ray's scream of surprise again, felt the rawhide whip catch across his chest.  With a deep breath, he reached out for Egon's hand, needing to know that the worst was over, that they had once again made it. Egon's strong fingers tightened around his, giving him the promise he needed.

      The slight movement brought a gasp of pain from Peter. Someone knelt next to him and he looked up into dark eyes filled with sympathy. His mind dredged up the name he had heard in the cavern so long ago. At the same instant he realized that he was still nude. Heat crept up his cheeks.

      The older woman laughed at him, patting his cheek. "You don't worry, now, mon. I find you some clothes."

      "Please," he requested.

      "Winston'll clean you up soon, okay?"

      Peter nodded, knowing it would be necessary but not liking the thoughts of rough cloth or anything else against him.  Maggie moved away and he let himself drift, the roar of the wind almost comforting after the silence of the cave, almost like listening to a elevated train at home.

      "Peter?" Egon called softly.

      "Can't believe you guys didn't bring my good suit," Peter groused quietly.

      Something light fell over his legs, covering him. And smoke tickled his nose. He looked up once again to find Maggie kneeling next to him. She tucked the sheet around his legs and waist. With a sense of detachment, he watched the blood from his thigh soak through it. A hand-rolled cigarette, not the tobacco kind, appeared in front of his face. He shook his head.

      "Just say no," he quoted.

      Motioning toward his chest, Maggie said, "Gonna hurt."

      The pain was already making it hard to breath, but he looked at Winston and Egon, not wanting to do anything they would disapprove of. But only sympathy reflected back from his two friends. He took the joint with a shaking hand.

      "Okay, but don't tell Ray," he joked. Under the circumstances, he knew even Ray would understand. He took a long draw on the joint.

      Beside him, Egon laughed gently. "I guess your misspent youth has its advantages."

      A couple of more puffs and Peter let himself sag against Egon. By the time Winston got to him he was beyond the pain.

 

      "What is that?" Peter asked as he woke.

      "It's called silence," Egon said quietly.

      Looking around Peter realized he was lying in a bed, sunlight streaming in through an open window. Egon was in a straight backed chair next to him, looking as if he had been there for a long time. Slight movement told Peter there were tight bandages around his chest and another around his thigh. There was pain, like a not so dull nag, but his thoughts immediately went to Ray. He tried to sit up, lay back down as the room spun around him even before Egon's hand came down on his shoulder to hold him to the bed. The tall scientist knew what he wanted, what he needed.

      "Ray is in the next bed," he assured Peter. "He's been awake and besides the weakness, didn't lose enough blood to be in any further danger."

      "Why is it so quiet?" Peter wondered.

      "The hurricane blew over," Egon told him, dampening a cloth and gently wiping Peter's face. "You've been asleep for nearly eighteen hours."

      "Winston?"

      "He's gone with Maggie to check on some of the villagers that didn't come in," Egon said softly. The blue eyes wouldn't met Peter's, a sure sign that something was troubling Egon.

      "Egon?"

      Whit a sigh, Egon said, "They don't expect to find any survivors." Looking up, the misery and dismay went deep into the blue eyes. "I've been outside, Peter. Except for this fort, there is nothing left."

      "What you been smokin', mon?" a voice said lightly from the door.

      The two men looked up to find Maggie and Winston in coming in. They both looked tired, physically, mentally, spiritually. Yet, Maggie found a smile for them.

      "You hurtin'?" Maggie questioned.

      Peter shook his head. "Not much." Nodding toward Egon, he added, "Not me."

      Maggie nodded, sitting down on the bed to face Egon. "Whole world left out there. New water, clean water for drinking. Little trees to grow up now. The wind and water, they take people. Always have, always will."

      Looking doubtful, Egon said, "I know we had no choice. It just seems that innocent people suffer sometimes no matter what we do."

      "Life,” Maggie said bluntly. "People die. But the wind and water, they bring life to us, too. Always have, always will."

      Smiling in to the round, dark face, Egon took Maggie's hand. "Maggie, you are a very wise woman."

      The blush wasn't visible except in her eyes. "Silly mon."

      "Maggie," Peter asked, "how did you know the crucifix would help our packs?"

      "Didn't," Maggie admitted. "But evil is evil and good always stops evil."

      Winston chuckled behind her. "Nicely said. Now, good news guys. The plane that belongs to Maggie's friend was safely, shall we say, well stowed. He can carry two at a time. Ray will go with the third group..."

      "Third?" Peter started to protest. "Why..."

      "Oh, Peter," Ray said softly, "I'm not that hurt."

      They all turned to the other bed. Ray raised his hand and Winston took it in a steady grip. "He's right, Peter. There are several more seriously injured. You go out with the fifth group."

      From across the room, Ray frowned. "How did other people get hurt? Did I miss something?"

      Peter laughed, regretting it as it moved his ripped muscles. "Nothing serious, Tex. Just a little storm." Laying back with a sigh, Peter asked, "Maggie, when don't the storms come?"

      "Fall, winter," Maggie said.

      "Good, see you in December."


End file.
